


carry it with no regrets

by crimsonxflowers



Series: there's a hole in my soul (can you fill it?) [2]
Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Gen, Period-Typical Slurs, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 12:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11058765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonxflowers/pseuds/crimsonxflowers
Summary: The tall Italian kid shoves his arm forward, hand extended. “Name’s Salvatore. Call me Sal.”Meyer feels his face scrunch up as he folds his arms across his chest. “I'm not calling you anything, asshole.”





	carry it with no regrets

**Author's Note:**

> AKA: THE MEETCUTE, BUT WITH DAEMONS.
> 
> list of daemons (names and species) are down in the endnotes, if you want the mental image before you read! i have [a whole tag for this au](http://meyerlansky.tumblr.com/tagged/daemon+au) over on my tumblr, as well as a writeup explaining the basics of how daemons work [here](http://meyerlansky.tumblr.com/post/127967825056/what-are-uhmdaemons-i-discovered-the-daemon), though fair warning that the overall tag contains daemon spoilers for characters who haven't been introduced/aren't settled at the point that this fic takes place, so caveat lector etc

They’re not the only ones in their neighborhood to have settled early; there’s a girl down the block whose shaggy mountain goat dwarfs her in synagogue, and an Irish boy in the class above Meyer’s with a loud duck daemon that makes Atarah grit her teeth every time she opens her bill.

That doesn’t stop people from being weird around them. Some kids ask what it’s like being stuck, and they usually just shrug and dodge the question. It’s a good shape to be, Atarah’s quick and slinky when she needs to be, and her perch on Meyer’s shoulder is easy for them both to handle. The upside is he doesn’t have to deal with too many schoolyard squabbles—even the toughest kids tend to leave early settlers alone. There’s always a few though, their daemons shifting into big cougars or bears and snarling wordlessly at Atarah while the boys snarl about as articulately at Meyer. Atarah has a hell of a bite, though, and thick sharp claws that don’t pull in all the way even when she tries. She’s not afraid to use either when other daemons don’t back off fast enough.

His teachers are harder to deal with. Most of them just ignore it, but they catch some of their teacher’s daemons casting Atarah nervous or disapproving looks. Meyer picks up English fast enough that they go from first to sixth grade pretty quickly, so none of them really have an opportunity to do anything more. One teacher tries, her antelope daemon’s big brown eyes radiating the same concern in her tone as she asks Meyer if there’s anything he wants to tell her. He just shakes his head and lets Atarah curl around his neck, comforting by her presence alone.

As if that’s not bad enough, Ma’s worried glances are the worst. She only does it when she thinks neither of them are looking, and Vilkal’s better about it, but Meyer knows she thinks it’s her fault they settled so early. He doesn’t know how to tell her it’s not, that this is just who they are, and it’s okay. Atarah’s got everything she needs to stay safe, and if she can stay safe, Meyer can make sure Ma and Jake stay safe. It makes perfect sense to him.

Pa’s not really around often enough for Meyer to figure out how he feels about it. All the more reason it’s Meyer and Atarah’s job to watch out for Jake and Ma.

* * *

 

Atarah attracts a lot of attention, being settled so early, and it’s not all bad. There’s one kid, from a couple blocks down, who starts running with Meyer after they get out of a scrape together. Benny’s an okay kid, especially in a fight, but Neva makes Atarah nervous sometimes. She flickers from shape to shape like breathing, which would be bad enough on its own, but she’s also _rude_ , in that way most people and their daemons know instinctively not to be. Benny does a bad job hiding his contempt for people once they’ve pissed him off, and the way Neva mouths off to humans instead of talking to their daemons first leaves a bad taste in everyone’s mouths. Even worse than that, more than once Atarah’s ended up tackling Neva in whatever form she’s taken to stop her from taking a bite out of someone—a  _person_ , not their daemon.

“Why do you let Neva do that?” Meyer asks, while they’re catching their breath from _another_ craps game gone wrong. Neva shouts “fuck’s it to you?!” from Benny’s collar, piping voice muffled by the layers of fabric she’s huddled under, but Benny just fishes her out and shrugs, surly and annoyed at the whole situation.

“She can do whatever she wants. Someone gets in her way, that’s their fuckin’ problem,” he gripes, flipping his palm over so Neva can skitter across his knuckles in the vole shape she favors when they need to get out of a bad situation fast. She ripples and shifts as she drops from Benny’s hand, landing with a thump at their feet as a big brown lizard. Meyer just shakes his head, but the thought of Atarah touching another person, even in a fight, makes his stomach roil.

At least Benny and Neva are a little better behaved after that.

They get a reputation, the two of them, and as weird as Meyer is, settled already, apparently it’s reassuring to the kids that tail them around. It’s useful to have a couple more eyes as lookouts for the craps games they run, and it’s not long before they start turning a profit. The gamblers tend to relax when Meyer deals, too; it’s a lot harder to play the trustworthy dealer when your daemon’s shifting every two seconds, and Atarah’s not as blatantly dangerous as she might be if she was a tiger or wolf. It’s a good setup.

* * *

 

And then there’s days like this, when people see Meyer walking home on his own, and think he’s an easy target.

There’s three boys sitting on the steps of a building down the road, and Meyer can see their daemons’ heads swivel in his direction as soon as he turns the corner. There’s a snarl building in Atarah’s chest already, but Meyer just keeps walking as the three kids get up and start towards them. One of them steps out in front, slowing down a few steps from Meyer, and grins, real friendly on the surface. “Hey kid. Didn’t your parents tell you this neighborhood ain’t safe for shrimps like you?”

His accent is thick, and Meyer’s sure he’s from the Italian neighborhood a few blocks over, but the words are clear enough, menace and all. Meyer stares the kid straight in the face and says, “I do alright on my own.” He doesn’t reach up to touch Atarah, but he wants to.

The guy shrugs and shakes his head a bit, curly hair bouncing with the movement and brushing against his daemon, a big black bird perched on his shoulder for now. “I dunno, you look like easy pickings t’me. Tell you what. I’ll get you home safe, and it’ll only cost ya a buck or two. Otherwise...” he smirks and shrugs again, and his crow makes a clicking noise in her throat, something between a snicker and a tsk. “There’s some real rough guys around here, y’know.” At that, the kids behind him _do_ snicker outright, and their daemons’ forms ripple into wolves.

“Original,” Atarah mutters against Meyer’s ear, and he’d laugh if the adrenaline wasn’t tearing through him and he wasn’t trying to keep from punching the other kid in the face. If it was just him, it’d be nothing, but three on one’s bad odds any day.

The guy’s daemon pushes into the air and shifts into something big and feline as she lands. A leopard, Meyer thinks, but he’s a little busy staring the kid down to know for sure. Atarah’s fur bristles, the snarl building in her chest as the other daemon gets closer, and the curly-haired kid rocks back on his heels, thumbs hooked in his pockets, flashing another toothy grin Meyer’d want to wipe off his face even if he wasn’t _hustling_ him for _pennies_. “What's it gonna be, kid?”

His daemon inches even closer, and Atarah jumps down, teeth bared, once she skirts just too close to Meyer for comfort. It gets the leopard’s attention, and she snaps her teeth together two inches from Atarah’s nose just as Meyer says “You can go fuck yourself” to the other kid.

Atarah whips a paw out, thick claws fully extended, and catches the other daemon square in the face, claws raking down her cheek with enough force to send her reeling back a step. The other two daemons, still wolves, dart forward to the leopard’s side, teeth bared—and the leopard _laughs_. Her outline ripples, shifts, and she's a little brown fox, crouching low in front of Atarah with a grin on her pointed snout. “Oh, I'm gonna keep you,” she says as she reaches out a paw to tap the crown of Atarah’s head, playfully, like two seconds ago Meyer wasn't getting ready for a bloodbath.

The two wolves at her side whine, confused, but the curly-haired kid’s daemon doesn't even look over, too busy chuckling as Atarah ducks, then snaps her jaws in the air just shy of catching the fox’s paw. “Fuck _off_ ,” she bites out, more grumble than actual anger, and Meyer is going to have to have some words with her about appropriate responses to this shit later.

The tall Italian kid laughs, says “You’ve got some balls on you, kid.” He skirts around their daemons, stupid grin still plastered to his face, and Meyer tenses as he shoves his arm forward, hand extended. “Name’s Salvatore. Call me Sal.”

Meyer feels his face scrunch up as he folds his arms across his chest. “I'm not calling you anything, asshole,” he bites out, and he jerks his head to get Atarah’s attention from where she’s still swapping swipes with the fox, because apparently she’s gone insane today. “Come on, we're going home,” he says, deliberately not calling her name in front of these shitheads.

Her head whips around, and at least she has the decency to look a _little_ shamefaced as she waddles away from the kid’s fox. He waits for her to get perched on his shoulder like usual, then backs up a step or two, eyes on the kid in front. He's just watching, consideringly, even though the other two kids are coming up behind him with rage on their faces. Their daemons hang back, though, and once he’s out of swinging distance, Meyer turns around and walks away, sedate as he can manage with the adrenaline of a barely-avoided fight still rushing through him.

He hears some indistinct talking, and footsteps, and then—“What the fuck, Sal?” one of the other kids yells, more than a little whiny, and Meyer can just barely hear the tall kid growl “I said _go home_ , Joe, I ain't gonna tell ya twice,” before he rounds the corner and starts walking a bit faster.

“Hey, kid!” Meyer grits his teeth as the guy and his stupid—well, not a fox anymore, some kind of bigger dog with big black ears now—trot up next to him and Atarah.

“What part of ‘fuck off’ do you not get?” Meyer snaps as he rounds on the guy, who just puts his hands up, still grinning.

“Easy, just wanna talk. You're tough for barely clearin’ three feet off the ground,” he says, chipper like every word that comes out of his mouth doesn't make Meyer seethe even more. “Could use someone tough like you in my crew.”

And that's… Meyer squints up at the kid. He's still smiling, but it's more subdued now, and there's an edge to it. Something ambitious about it. There’s an opportunity there, even if this guy’s unbelievably obnoxious, and Meyer’s not one to pass up an opportunity when he sees one. He folds his arms, stands up a little straighter. “Already got a crew,” Meyer says, and watches the kid’s face fall, just barely. “You greaseballs catch shit from the Irish up the block?”

And just like that the edge is back, the kid’s teeth bared just like his daemon’s snarl. “Yeah, them micks got it out for Italians. Lots of ‘em got daddies or brothers with the cops. Let ‘em do whatever they want.”

Meyer snorts. “You think you got it bad, come down to shul sometime,” he bites out. The Irish kids don't fuck with him too much—benefits of being settled, scares people off—but they wait around the corner for the younger kids to head home in the evenings, and they're never just looking for lunch money.

The kid—Sal, that was his name—tilts his head, considering. “Bet we could show ‘em a thing or two,” he says, and sticks his hand out again.

Atarah’s claws flex against Meyer’s shoulder, and then she jumps down to get nose to nose with Sal’s daemon, who sits down at Sal’s side. “I'm Oriana,” she says, grinning that canine grin of hers.

Atarah settles back on her hind legs, front paws tucked up against her chest and claws as sheathed as they get. “Atarah.”

Meyer looks up, and Sal’s grinning at him expectantly. He sighs—of all the things he expected this afternoon, this wasn't even in the cards—and grabs Sal’s hand to shake. “Bet we could. Name’s Meyer.” He frowns up into Sal’s face, squeezing his knuckles for a second for emphasis. “ _Don't_ call me anything else.”

Sal smirks, jamming his hands in his pockets and leaning back on his heels. “Whatever you say, Meyer.” He jerks his head back, over his shoulder. “I'll tell my guys what's what, they fuck with you and get their teeth knocked out.”

And Meyer’s right back to bristling. “I said I don't need your protection,” he snaps, and Sal just shrugs.

“Didn't say nothin’ about me hittin’ ‘em,” he says through another fucking grin, taking a few steps back before spinning on his heel. “See ya ‘round, Meyer.”

“Careful going home, there's some real assholes hanging around,” Atarah yells at their backs, and Oriana’s barking laughter follows them home.

**Author's Note:**

> for reference:  
> meyer's daemon, atarah, is a [beech marten](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beech_marten)  
> yetta's daemon, vilkal, is a [mouflon](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mouflon)  
> benny's daemon, neva, is unsettled [[vole](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/European_snow_vole), [lizard](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mertens%27_water_monitor)]  
> charlie's daemon, oriana, is unsettled [[crow](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carrion_crow), [leopard](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arabian_leopard), [fox](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swift_fox), [wild dog](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/East_African_wild_dog)]
> 
> come talk to me about baby gangsters on [tumblr](http://meyerlansky.tumblr.com)!


End file.
